Everybody Needs a Good, Old-Fashioned Lover
by Primavera Rathbone
Summary: Genevieve has been running damage control for Jim Moriarty, the infamous consulting criminal, for years. On this particular job, however, she finds that she's in for a little more than she bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Notes:**_

This came into being because a friend of mine wanted to know what happened in a rather steamy Moriarty sex dream I had. She knew it must have been good, because it's what made me come out of denial and proclaim my love for Moriarty from the rooftops.

There's a backstory to this, obviously. I'm going to write the backstories, as well as sequels, in separate fics to be published at a later date.

Enjoy! ^_^

* * *

"Genevieve…I need you."

I rolled my eyes, tossing my bangs out of my face and continuing to walk down the street. I ___knew _I shouldn't have answered my mobile. "What is it this time?"

"I have a problem I need you to…dispose of."

"You ___always _have a problem for me to 'dispose of', Jim," I scoffed. I was more or less the consulting criminal's consulting nerd; I had no formal training in chemistry, but I knew enough of volatile chemicals to flawlessly erase any evidence of every last one of Jim Moriarty's "problems".

"Yes, but this one is more urgent than the others."

I arched an eyebrow. "Urgent?"

"You have ears, don't you? I'd appreciate it if you could attend to it immediately."

I huffed, approaching the corner. "___Fine_. Where did you leave it?"

"An abandoned warehouse. I've left all the supplies you may need there. I'll text you the address."

"Really? That's all you're giving me? I have no idea what I'm up against."

"The location is all you need know," he nearly growled, "and if you don't want to be your head to be fffflayed, you'll stop asking questions and do as I SAY!"

___There's the Jim we all know and love_, I thought, smiling sarcastically.

With that, he hung up. Moments later, I received his text, opening it as I rounded the corner—

—only to run smack into Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" I exclaimed, as my mobile clattered to the ground. Reflexively, my hand shot after it.

"No, allow me," Lestrade said, intercepting me and picking it up before I could reach it. Lifting it up, he looked at the screen.

"___Thank _you, Greg," I said sharply, snatching the device away from him.

"Who's 'Jim M.'?" he probed, smirking slightly.

"A friend," I replied coldly. Okay, so he read the name. I just hoped he hadn't read the address.

"And…why are you meeting him at that drafty old warehouse?" he persisted, eying me suspiciously.

___Shit…think!_

"Uh…Dungeons and Dragons," I answered hastily, clearly flustered. "Good day, Greg."

Before he could respond, I hurried off, my heart pounding in my throat.

* * *

By the time I reached the warehouse, I had calmed down. It was a large, drafty, imposing, ___creepy _building, and I frankly didn't feel quite comfortable there; it smelled of stale air and mildew.

I smiled faintly.

___A great place for D&D…I just hope Lestrade doesn't show up with a 20-sided die and a 6-pack._

I scanned the room carefully, looking past all sort of rubble and debris, in search of any other human being. I found none. Jim had left me alone, ___again_, to clean up ___his _goddamn mess, and this time it was in the most terrifying building I had ever set foot in. Then, at the far back of the building, I saw what appeared to be a piece of paper taped on the wall next to a rusty metal staircase. As I approached it, I could see it was a note.

Dear Genevieve,

The little dilemma is waiting upstairs.  
You'll find everything you need is there.  
Please hurry.

Love,  
Jim

I stared stupidly at the note for what was easily two minutes, simply because I had never known Jim to say "please" in earnest; not even the first time I needed to dispose of something especially incriminating for him. Shaking my head, I tucked the note into my purse before heading up the stairs. They emptied into a room that must have been an office at one point in time, but now contained only a large double-basin sink by an old window, a sizable metal desk, a water cooler (probably just placed there earlier for my benefit), and an oversized burgundy chaise lounge. The floor was cold grey stone, and the walls were of the same reddish-brown brick as the rest of the building; despite this, it had a much more comforting aura about it than the rest of the building. In one basin of the sink, I saw containers full of the various chemicals I had used in the past. Atop the desk was a cardboard box, which had been opened and was currently empty. I looked around in confusion for whatever was originally in the box, until my eyes came to rest on something on the floor in front of the desk.

A bomb.

With a blinking red light.

"Jesus. Fucking. ___Christ_!" I roared, yanking my mobile out of my purse and dialing Moriarty. Angrily, I mumbled, "Fucker just figures I'll blow my ass up and solve his fucking problems…we'll see about ___that_."

Suddenly, I heard something directly behind me.

"Stayin' Alive" by the BeeGees.

"Well, ___hello _sweetie," he said, a smirk audible in his voice. "Saved you a phone call."

"Jim, ___darling_," I growled, turning slowly to glare at him. "So ___lovely _to see you. Care to explain what you expect me to do with a ___live bomb_?"

He was clad in an impeccable black suit, looking quite stylish as always, complete with a black tie decorated by tiny embroidered skulls. He raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Now, Genevieve, let me explain."

He seemed unusually stressed, so I cut him some slack. Crossing my arms across my black satin blouse, I (begrudgingly) said. "_Fine_. What did you do?"

"My my, aren't we testy today? An associate of mine sent me a prototype of his newest bomb to test out. I had him send it here, and I took it out and fiddled with it—"

"—and dropped it and activated it," I finished.

He scowled at me, his eyes darkening with what may have been anger.

I shrank back a bit (something I tried not to do with him; I figured the only way for me to hold my own around Jim Moriarty was to have confidence just as strong as his.) "How long until it goes off?"

"You might want to…" he looked down at my feet and pointed to them, then looked back to me, "…take off your shoes."

My eyes widened, and I carefully stepped out of my ebony stilettos. "Contact trigger?" If so, the vibrations from my unnecessarily high-heeled shoes could potentially have set it off.

He nodded, crouching down to grab my shoes and moving them out of the way. Standing back up, he queried, "Can you disarm it?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Can you contact your associate?"

He frowned, shaking his head. "His number's been disconnected."

"___Shit_," I spat. Exhaling in aggravation, I offered, "I can try, but no promises."

"You'd better," he said, "or it shall be the last thing you ever do."

"You'd be blown up right with me. Now get me some tools."

Grumbling in utter annoyance, he tiptoed to the desk and fumbled through one of the drawers. Cautiously, I lowered myself to the floor to lie on my stomach.

_I ____really __didn't want to do this in a skirt._


	2. Chapter 2

"Jim," I mumbled, gripping a pair of tiny wire-cutters between my teeth, "care to make yourself useful?"

I leaned in for a better look, delicately untangling the multicolored wires within a small hatch on the bomb with two pairs of forceps.

No reply.

"Dammit, Jim!" I growled, resisting the urge to slam my fist on the floor.

"___What_?" he snapped, nearly falling over as he took off his shoes and placed them alongside mine.

"Come hold my hair back."

"What? No! Don't you have a hair band?"

From the corner of my eye, I stared daggers at him. "No. And since the term 'hair trigger' was invented for a reason, I suggest you do as I ask if you want us to live."

Without any further argument, he placed a foot on either side of me and lowered himself down, easing himself into a slight kneeling position and resting on the small of my back. Slowly, he brushed my long hair back out of my face and gathered it in his hands; the movements were somewhat jerky, possibly due to the fact that he had been nervously running his hands through his own slicked-back hair earlier. My guess was that all the gel had been rubbed off his hair and had fused itself to his hands. I stifled a shudder; from all the time we had spent together in the past, I had developed a very strong attraction to him. And now, feeling the warmth radiating off his body as he straddled me, my hair bunched in his hands…it took everything inside me to focus on the wires before me.

"Jim?" I whispered, staring hard at one wire in particular.

"Yes?"

"Take the cutters out of my mouth."

He obliged, shifting all my hair to one hand and gently removing the cutters.

"Good," I said, taking a moment to loosen my jaw muscles. "Now, cut that lime green wire in there."

"___Green_? Genevieve, don't you watch cinema? It's ___always _the _red _wire!"

"Well, ___this _is real life!" I retorted. "Shut up and cut the green wire!"

"Alright!" he replied. "If we blow up, though, it's on you."

With that, he leaned forward, having to lie down on top of me to see into the small hatch. His head rested on my shoulder, and his breath flirted with my ear, sending an uncontrollable tremor down my spine. He placed the cutters against the wire, and I felt his body (as well as my own) tense up, our breath caught in our throats. I watched in morbid fascination as his hand squeezed shut on the cutters…

*snip*

The red light went out.

After the moment or two needed to process what had happened, Jim and I simultaneously let out deep sighs of relief, our bodies relaxing instantly.

"Genevieve?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"Are we still alive?"

"I think so."

He chuckled lightly, and rolled off of me onto his back. "We're alive!" he exclaimed, his chuckle blossoming into joyous laughter. Before I realized what was happening, he grabbed me and pulled me on top of him, kissing me full on the lips. Breaking away, he added, "And it's all because of you, you brilliant thing."

Fairly certain I was blushing, I smiled sheepishly and said, "It was nothing, Jim. Now…what shall we do about the bomb corpse?"

Pushing himself out from under me, he sat up and furrowed his brow. "Can't you vaporize it or whatever you do?"

"_Dissolve_," I corrected. "And yes…but with the materials it's made of, you may want to take off your suit jacket and loosen your tie. The chemicals I have to use will ___undoubtedly _heat things up in here."

* * *

"When was the last time we did anything outside of work?" Jim asked. He was leaning casually against the brick wall alongside the sink, intently watching me add chemicals to the bucket that contained the deactivated bomb. He was wearing nothing but his trousers and his white button-up shirt, having hung his jacket on the doorknob and used his tie to loosely hold my hair back. He had rinsed what little product that remained in his hair out; it was almost completely dry, and looked surprisingly soft.

I smirked. "Saturday night. Zombie ___Black Ops _at my flat, remember?" I tried my best to hide my confusion; we did stuff like that _all _the time.

"No, I mean…when's the last time we did something ___special_?" he clarified, inching closer to the sink.

Picking up a beaker of liquid and beginning to pour it into the bucket, I answered, "I think it was my birthday."

"Oh yeah, we had dinner."

That was an understatement. He had shown up at my flat, in a tuxedo, with a dozen red roses, and then took me to the fanciest restaurant I had ever set foot in, where we had dinner and wine by candlelight. It was completely unexpected, and breathtakingly romantic. He even kissed me goodnight when he dropped me off at my place.

I smiled wistfully at the memory. "That was an incredible evening, Jim." Setting the beaker back in the adjacent basin, I met his gaze and finished, "Thank you."

He grinned. "We should...do it again sometime."

"I'd like that very much," I replied earnestly. We simply stood there smiling at each other for a moment or two, before I turned my attention back to the task at hand, dumped in one more container of liquid, and took off my gloves.

"Finished?" he inquired hopefully.

I nodded. "Now I just need to wait for it to dissolve, and I can clean up and leave."

"Wonderful," he said, moving behind me and gingerly removing his tie from my hair so as to not pull on it. "You shouldn't be needing me then, I'd imagine."

Normally, I would have sent him on his way. However, I knew Lestrade knew where I was, and Jim was so clever that, should the inspector show up, he would surely think of a way for us to get out of it.

"Genevieve?"

I pivoted around and firmly grasped his hand, fear flooding my face. "Please stay with me."

His eyebrow raised, and a look of bewilderment and concern flashed across his face. He pulled me into a comforting embrace. "Of course I will, Dear. What's got you so frightened?"

"Lestrade," I murmured into his neck.

"That idiot inspector? Why?"

"I bumped into him, ___literally_, when I got your text. He picked my mobile up for me, but not before reading it was from you and the address."

I felt his strong arms tense up around my frame. "So he knows you're with ___me_, and where we are."

"Not exactly. I have your number stored as 'Jim M.', not Moriarty, for that reason."

He leaned back and looked at me suspiciously. "Do you often let policemen read your texts?"

I scoffed lightly. "No, but I've been a friend of Lestrade for ages, even before I met you."

He eyed me doubtfully. "And you'd lie to someone you've known that long...for me?"

I furrowed my brow, trying not to look at him as if he were stupid. "Well, yes. I told him you were a friend and I was meeting you here for D&D."

"Dungeons and Dragons? Pfft, he bought that? Whyyy am I not surprised?"

I nodded, praying he wasn't cross. Moriarty could get terrifying when he was angry, though when it wasn't at me, I always found it oddly...cute, in a way. Yes, I am aware that I'm a sick fuck.

"Well," he said at long last, his hands sliding down my arms to take hold of mine, "we shouldn't have much to worry about. Since you'd feel more comfortable with me here though...I'll stay," he finished, his warm brown eyes —oh my god— smiling.

"Thank you, Darling," I said, sighing a breath of relief. Despite the fact that I wasn't much shorter than him, I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Glancing towards the water cooler in the corner, I added, "What do you say we get a drink and sit down?"


	3. Chapter 3

Within a short amount of time, the small office had heated up substantially; despite the fact that not only was the door open, but it had also begun to rain outside. We were both draped over the chaise lounge, trying to distract ourselves by talking about everything from how we met (a Scissor Sisters concert), to philosophy, to recent news.

"I can't take it anymore," I huffed, weakly looking down at my legs, which were splayed out before me. "I need to take my stockings off; the nylon is trapping _all_ the heat."

Jim turned his head to face me and arched an eyebrow. "So why don't you?"

"It's too much effort," I justified, kicking one leg up into the air briefly in defeat.

"I know just how you feel," he replied sympathetically, placing a hand on my thigh, "I'd _kill_ to take my shirt off, but there's just _soooo many but-tons_."

Taking hold of his hand, I turned to him and said, "I'll take off your shirt if you'll take off my stockings."

He eyed me curiously for a moment, and I just then realized what conclusions he may have drawn; and I found myself not having the slightest problem with any of them. He gave the faintest smile and said, "Yes, alright, it's a deal."

I smirked, and moved my hand to his wrist, undoing the buttons on one sleeve, then reaching over him to undo the other. Upon noticing I couldn't unbutton the front of his shirt while sitting next to him, I moved so I was straddling his lap, having to hike my skirt up a bit to do so. He ran his hands up my legs to rest on my hips, making my heart flutter briefly as I slid my own hands up his arms, to his shoulders, to the collar of his shirt. His dark chocolate eyes met mine, their expression —once again, what?— softer than usual, and I couldn't look away, not even as I began to gradually unbutton his shirt, my hands moving progressively downward. Once I had reached the end of his shirt, I pulled it back over his shoulders and down his arms to reveal an attractively toned torso. Almost sheepishly, I reached a hand out and touched his chest, snaking a finger down his stomach to the beginning of a small trail of hair.

Jim leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, flipping me so that I was sitting on the lounge and he was kneeling on the floor. Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he slowly glided his fingers up my calves, past my knees, under my skirt, up my thighs, to grasp the waistband of my stockings, and pull them down just as slowly. Involuntarily, my body quivered.

Seeing this, Jim smirked devilishly and leaned over me, positioning his hands at the top button of my blouse and letting his lips brush against my ear.

"I'm sure you're still quite warm," he whispered sensually. "Would you like me to—"

He undid my top button, and I exhaled quietly; I felt his lips twist into an even bigger smirk.

"—take this off for you?" he finished, nibbling on my ear tauntingly.

"Y-yes," I replied, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible, and failing miserably.

Without a word, his lips traveled from my ear, down my jawline, to my neck, his kisses becoming more and more savage every inch of the way. He unbuttoned my shirt at a snail's pace, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me; my body arched itself into his hands, and my own fingers found themselves intertwined in his soft, dark brown hair, my desire building rather rapidly. He tossed my blouse aside, and his gaze strayed to my red silk bra.

"No wonder you're so hot," he commented, reaching out and tracing the outline of my right nipple through the fabric. He must have shifted his eyes to analyze my face; I stared at his mouth hungrily, my lips dying to be pressed against his. "Well? What's stopping you, sweetheart?"

I didn't say anything, but my look must have said it all. His expression turned gentle, yet serious, and he gently cupped my face in his hands. "Genevieve… aren't you worried that this is only lust?"

I tried to look down, but he lifted my chin back up. Looking at his face, I saw that he seemed to be searching for the right words.

"Heh, it's strange. I care about you a lot... more than anyone else in my life. I didn't think it'd be possible, but looking at you now—your soft brown hair, tawny hazel eyes, smooth ivory skin, and that gentle, caring smile—I know I love you. I really do."

He could very well have been lying, I mean, this _is_ Jim Moriarty we're talking about. But, he'd never lied to me before, and there were many times in the past where I could have sworn he was sincerely trying to show affection. So, I believed him. My heart swelling with joy, I replied, "I love you too, Jim…I've just never been quite sure how you felt about me."

"Well," he began, our faces creeping nearer to each other, "now you know."

With that, he closed the distance between us and his lips embraced mine; tenderly, at first, but he quickly took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, becoming increasingly more passionate with every glide of his tongue across mine. I moved both hands to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair at the base of his head. He took hold of the waistband of my skirt and —with minor difficulty— managed to shimmy it off my body. Now that my legs had full range of movement, I wrapped them around his waist and pulled myself to him. He snaked a hand up my back, and unclasped my bra with a simple flick of his wrist, and I let it unceremoniously fall to the ground. He drew me towards him, and the feeling of his bare chest against mine sent a roll of thunder throughout me in time to the storm. Holding me securely in place, he stood up, and moving a hand to my upper-back, began to ravage my neck once more; I gave out a shattered breath, and felt my folds dampen.

Cautiously, he laid me down on the chaise lounge, still kissing my neck, and started to gently knead my breasts. I scratched at his back, causing the tiniest of moans to escape his lips.

"You're going to pay for that," he breathed somewhat menacingly, his mouth leaving my neck and making its way to my left nipple. Making eye contact with me, he traced the outline of it with his tongue, flicking it back and forth a few times, before bringing his whole mouth down and beginning to suckle on it. My breath hitched sharply, and he moved over and did the same to my right. I let out a weak moan that I had failed to hold back.

"Oh, that just won't do," he said, starting a trail of kisses down my stomach. "I'm certain I can make you feel better than that _wittle_ _squeak_."

He curled his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down just enough to place a finger over my tender nub, rubbing it in a circular pattern, while removing them the rest of the way with his other hand. I whimpered, my arousal only growing. Soon, he locked gaze with me once more; this time, his expression was devious. He gave me a dark smirk, then moved downwards and licked my clit torturously; sliding his tongue back and forth, in and out. I reached down and ran my hands desperately through his hair, and he sped up his motions. Unable to control myself, I let out an audibly pleasured groan.

Sliding up my body, he reached my ear and nibbled on it once more, whispering, "_That's_ more like it… Don't be afraid to give in, Beautiful."

I felt his erection pressing against me, and so I inched my hands down his chest and abdomen, aiming to undo his trousers. In rebuttal, he firmly grabbed hold of my wrists and forcefully pinned them above my head.

"Oh no you _don't_," he growled, taking hold of me and flipping us so that he was lying down and I was over him. Pulling me against him, he added, "I'm not done teasing you yet."

He held me tightly so that my motion was extremely restricted, so I tenderly kissed my way up his neck and to his ear, slowly, making a few small whimpers escape his throat. Nibbling on his ear, I cooed, "That's all very well, but how do you expect to tease me when I'm on top?"

"S-s-simple," he stuttered, his hands moving down my back and sides. I felt his finger searching for my opening, and I moved down slightly to bring it closer. He thrust first one finger into me, causing me to moan and to instinctively go at his neck. Once he found a comfortable rhythm, he added a second finger, and I groaned even louder, accidentally biting his clavicle. He gave a pleasured scream at the unexpected rush of pain, and pushed his fingers deeper in retaliation. I moaned, ceasing all efforts to hold myself up and letting myself collapse onto him. Shortly after, he withdrew his fingers and whispered, "Now."

Without a moment's hesitation, I raised myself into a kneeling position and trailed my hands down his toned body to the fly of his pants, undoing it and pulling them down his legs. It didn't surprise me much to see that he wasn't wearing any form of underwear; he _would_ wear nothing under a fancy suit. Before I could even contemplate teasing him, he moved so that I was on the bottom again.

"_Jimmmmm_…." I whined, my body writhing beneath him as he rubbed himself against my soaking-wet folds.

"Yes, my dear?" he purred. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I _ache_ for you…I _need_ you inside me…_Jim_…"

His gaze locked with mine.

"…won't you please fix it for me?"

He grinned mischievously and, without a second to spare, drove his hard member into me. My back arched, and I half-moaned, half-screamed with absolute pleasure. He groaned as well, lowering his body just enough for me to clutch on to his back. I pulled him down even further, digging my nails into his skin as I did so. He tangled his hands in my hair, tugging on it surprisingly lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting me.

"I _adore_ the little screams you make," he gasped in my ear, his speed increasing momentarily to elicit another.

"I'd _kill_ to find out what sounds you make," I answered, coaxing him into moving to the bottom. Our hands interlocking, I began to ride him, determined to not make any noises myself. I started off slow, watching his face contort with pleasure as I slid up and down his shaft harder and harder. Finally, a long, loud moan escaped his throat, at first deep and guttural, and then transitioning into a breathy sigh.

He moved so that I was on my hands and knees now, and he was positioned behind me. Wrapping a hand in my hair, he thrust into me, moving his other hand from my hip to grope at my breast. He leaned forward and began to eat at my neck, pulling on my hair this time with less restraint then previously. I whimpered again, biting my lip and tilting my head back.

"Come for me," he commanded, pushing himself deeper inside me.

I pulled myself from his grasp and laid down, spreading my legs for him to re-enter me.

"Only if I can look into your eyes as I scream your name," I said, pulling him down into a passionate kiss.

He slid his length into me agonizingly slowly, causing me to groan into his mouth. He gradually picked up speed, kissing me through my moans all the while. Tearing his mouth from mine, he moved to my ear, and breathed, "I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too," I replied, wrapping my arms around him and clawing viciously at his back.

He shifted so I could look deep into his eyes, his brown irises almost completely consumed by his dilated pupils.

"_Harder_," I gasped, gouging my nails into his back. He groaned harshly in response. "_Deeper_…oh Jim, I'm so close…."

His thrusts increased in force and speed, and I felt myself nearing my climax.

"_Genevieve_," he moaned, not breaking eye contact.

"_Jim_…oh, _Jim_… _JIM!_"

"_GENEVIEVE_!"

We screamed each other's name in utter ecstasy, simultaneous orgasms making our bodies convulse into each other. We kissed until the sensation subsided, when he pulled out and laid down, taking me securely in his arms. I curled into him and nestled my head on his chest, listening intently to his heartbeat as it slowly returned to normal.

"I mean it, you know," Jim said at long last, breaking up the sound of rain against the old window. "I _do_ love you, Genevieve."

"I love you too, Jim," I replied, rotating to face him and running a hand through his hair.

"And as far as I'm concerned," he added, his expression serious, "I'm yours now; no one else's."

I smiled tenderly. "And I'm yours, and _only_ yours."

"I knew you'd say that, but I love to hear the words from your mouth," he smirked, pulling me into a kiss.

Suddenly, "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale sprang forth from the floor.

My mobile.

Jim reached down and handed it to me; it was Lestrade.

"Hello Greg," I said as cordially as possible, drumming my fingers on Jim's chest.

"Hello Genevieve, how's your little nerdfest going?"

"Incredible," I replied, shooting a wry smile to Jim.

"Good," Lestrade said, "because I just received report that the rain has flooded the ground floor."

"Oh?" I tried to not sound hopeful.

"Afraid so. Looks like you're stuck there until tomorrow when a team can come down to drain it."

"Understood. Thanks for letting me know."

"Of course. Have fun storming the castle."

Hanging up, I nestled myself back into Jim's embrace and sighed, "Might as well get comfortable, Hon; we're stuck here until tomorrow."

"Why?" he inquired, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Ground floor is flooded. I don't know about you, but I don't particularly fancy the idea of wading through it to get out of here. Besides…I'm in no rush to leave your arms."

He kissed my forehead and held me tighter. "Good, because I'm in no rush to let you go."

With that, we relaxed into each other, and listening to the serenade of raindrops on the windowpane, we gradually drifted off to sleep.

_**THE END.**_


End file.
